


What He Doesn’t Know

by debwalsh



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Idiots in Love, M/M, Memories, Miscommunication, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-20 22:05:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16563995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/debwalsh/pseuds/debwalsh
Summary: Bucky moved into his own tower apartment six months ago, leaving Steve feeling left behind and unmoored.  When Steve finds out that Bucky lied about remembering, and all of Bucky’s actions were based on believing the propaganda about Steve, Steve is beyond hurt.And maybe that’s the whack upside the head that Bucky needs to realize that Steve Rogers is more than a symbol, and friendship is something worth fighting for, even if you don’t remember it all.And maybe it’s time for Steve to start living in the present, and to write his own story, his own future.





	What He Doesn’t Know

**Author's Note:**

> I know I promised to finish some WIPs during November. This is actually one of them. I’ve been writing this for my Patreon patrons, and i just finished it this week. And now i can share on AO3.
> 
> I really love exploring the themes of self and memory, and there were times writing this that the boys, as usual, surprised me. Nat surprised me. I hope you enjoy those moments as much as I did.

“So, Barnes. What’ll it be?”

“Huh?”

“What’ll it be? What. Do. You. Like. Best?”

“Oh. Pizza. And sex.”

A faint sputtering, an indrawn breath, a chuckle, and an elongated silence met the statement. The drawn out pause was so long, Bucky finally looked up from where he’d been playing a game on his phone. He glanced around, finding himself the center of attention.

“Was that not a survey?”

“It was whaddya want for dinner, Barnes. As in ordering takeout. Although, if you’re interested, I can forward you some excellent resources for company. Paid company, that is. Are you? Interested?

Bucky shrugged, then held up his phone, waggling it expectantly.

“What?” he finally demanded, turning to where Steve sat at the end of the sofa from him, his attention trained on his old friend. “Y’got somethin’ y’wanna say?”

Steve gulped as again a shocked hush fell over the room. “No, Buck, not at all. I just didn’t realize -“

“What?”

“That you were, you know -“

“Gettin’ my dick wet? Well, surprise. Ain’t so hard in the 21st century. Like the kids say, there’s an app for that.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve heard about those. Internet, so helpful -“

“Okay. So we know Barnes likes sex. And, ew, has figured out how to use his StarkPhone to get some, all without my recommendations. Surprising revelation from an ex-murder bot, but there you go. How about you, Man with a Plan? What’s your take on bumping uglies?

Now Bucky - and everyone else in the tower common room - had his attention riveted on Steve. Who blushed. And stammered. And looked like he might launch himself out the sealed nuclear-blast-proof window.

Bucky snorted and looked at Steve. “Yeah, Cap? What’s your opinion of sex? Must’a got a lotta tail back with the USO, hmm? Groupies hot for your star-spangled ass? Must’a gotta beat ‘em off with a stick, unless they like it like that -“

“It’s okay,” Steve blurted.

“Okay? Sex drives the world. Fuck, Steve, first thing I did after moving onto my own floor was go find someone to fuck. And you think it’s just okay?”

“It’s okay, yeah. And why’d you wait ‘til you moved out to find company, Buck? I never would’a judged -“

“Don’t change the subject. Although that’s an interesting line of inquiry we should put a pin in. ‘Cos, why, yes, would Barnes feel the need to hide the fact he’s getting some, from his best bud from the last century of all people? Anyway, spill, Cap. How’s your sex life lacking?”

“I don’t have a sex life, Tony. Steve Rogers doesn’t have sex.”

“Not if you feel you have to refer to yourself in the third person you don’t,” Natasha commented with a chuckle

“It’s not that, is it, Steve?” Sam asked, his tone gentle as he tilted his head, appearing to study Steve closely.

“No, it’s not. Steve Rogers never had sex. Cap gets all the attention. Lotta tail on offer in the USO. Lotta dicks, too. Everybody wanted to take Cap out for a spin. Nobody was interested in Steve Rogers.”

“Cap and Steve are the same person -“ Tony started to protest, but Sam cut him off.

“No, they’re not. You chose to be Iron Man. Iron Man grew out of who and what you are. You created the tech, you created the persona, you chose to own it. But Steve ...”

“Captain America was a publicity stunt. A manufactured personality designed to entertain the civilians and sell war bonds. A propaganda tool. Captain America is a role I played, eight shows a week.”

“Wait, dicks? You like dick?” Bucky demanded, frowning.

“That’s what you take from all that, Barnes? Good thing you moved to your own floor, pal. Chill would’a killed Steve. Cold, man.”

“Fuck you, Wilson. He was my friend first.”

“Oh, no. Fuck no. We are not competing for who’s the best friend, Barnes. Not when you -“

“Shut up, both of you. Buck’s my oldest friend. Sam’s the best friend I made since the ice. Yes, I like dick. No, I wasn’t impressed with sex. Maybe it’s because no one was interested in me, just who they thought I was. They all wanted Cap and Cap’s muscles. Maybe I need more of a connection. Maybe it was bad sex. I don’t know. I’m glad you’re getting what you need, Buck. Y’didn’t have to wait ‘til you moved off the floor to go looking for a fuck. I never would’a judged you. Y’could’a just talked to me, y’know? Just hope you’re being safe, is all. Now, I think I’m gonna call it a day. I got a headache that won’t quit. See you all later.”

“Wait, I thought Captain America didn’t feel any pain -“Tony protested.

“Oh, no. I feel pain. Maybe even more acutely than I did before the serum. I feel everything. The difference is everything isn’t gonna kill me. Everything’s just gonna hurt like a motherfucker -“

“Language!” Tony teased with a grin.

Steve waved his hand over his head as he departed the floor, middle finger prominently on display.

“Does this mean I get his pizza?” Clint asked.

“No. You eat too much pizza as it is,” Natasha replied flatly.

“There is no such thing. Tell me why we’re friends again?”

“No one else would have you.”

No one noticed the way that Bucky stared contemplatively after Steve’s retreating back.

At least that’s what he thought.

&&&

“Barnes.”

Well, fuck. Nothing good ever came from that tone of voice out of the Black Widow.

“I’m not in the mood for lectures, Romanova. So save your ‘don’t be mean to Steve’ speech.”

“I wasn’t about to waste my breath,” she replied haughtily. “You’re the one who’ll have to face his ‘Captain America is disappointed in you’ face, not me.”

“See, that’s the thing. I don’t know Captain America like you do. I only know Steve.”

“And yet, not as well as you think.”

“And there it is.”

“And there it is. You were genuinely shocked to learn he likes men. I thought you two knew each other.”

“I thought so too. If he liked fellas back in the day, you’d think I’d remember that. But, oh wait, my head’s been fried so many times, my memory is Swiss cheese, hold the mayo.”

“And here I thought you said your memory was good enough to be on your own. Hmmm. That’s a subject we’ll come back to. But Steve. You should talk to him anyway. It sounds like you have more in common than you realized. And in case you hadn’t noticed, you did hurt his feelings.”

“Who I fuck is my business.”

“Not arguing that. And I don’t think Steve would either. But don’t you think you should explain to him why you waited until you moved out to start hooking up? Why you didn’t trust him?”

“It’s not that I - well, maybe. I somehow thought he’d, I dunno, think less of me? Judge me?”

“If that’s what you thought, then you really don’t know him, Barnes. Think you need to remedy that, don’t you?”

&&&

“Buck.”

“Yeah. Can I ... can I come in?”

Steve stood back and waved Bucky into his Tower apartment - the apartment they’d shared for nearly a year before Bucky had abruptly moved out six months earlier. Since then, they’d been spending less and less time together, a separation that Natasha had told Bucky that Steve had felt keenly, especially since he felt that Bucky ... well, didn’t.

If nothing else, Bucky had to make Steve understand that just wasn’t true. 

“So, um, what, er what can I do for you? Y’wanna drink or somethin’?”

“Don’t waste your hospitality on me, pal. I ain’t -“

“Staying long. Yeah, no, you never do anymore. If you come at all. So, what can I do for you?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Bucky blurted out then, uncomfortable and clearly getting the message that Steve wasn’t going to make this easy on him.

“Yeah, okay. That all?”

“No, it’s not fucking all, you sanctimonious half-wit. I’m sorry I hurt your feelings, but what was I supposed to do? Show you my swipes on Grindr and ask you to help me take a dick pic?”

“Don’t see why you couldn’t. Why you didn’t. It’s your choice, though. I get that. I just wish ...”

“Wish what?”

“That you’d trusted me. I don’t care if you’re fucking guys, Buck. Nothing new about that -“

“Wait, what?”

“Huh?”

“What you said - nothing new about what? Me fucking guys?”

“Yeah. You liked fellas back in the day, and sometimes you even hung out at the queer bars, even brought me along a coupl’a times. Nice bunch’a people, real friendly. So you and other fellas ... not new. Why ... don’t you remember?”

“No, I fucking well did not. I thought it was something new, something broken about me. I didn’t want you to think I was ... I dunno, sick, I guess. I didn’t want you to disapprove.”

“So you been avoiding me for the past six months because you forgot you liked fellas, forgot I knew, and forgot I didn’t give a flying fuck? Did you lie about your memory recovery? Were you just telling your therapist what they wanted to hear?”

Bucky shrugged. “Maybe. I thought ... I thought I was remembering. Bits and pieces. I didn’t realize that I wasn’t remembering right. I read stuff, too, tried to fill in the blanks that way. I didn’t realize that the gaps were bigger than the filled in places -“

“Do you remember me at all, Buck? Like, do you know anything about the real me?”

“I, uh ... I guess not as much as I thought. I thought I remembered the important stuff. I -”

“So, a lifetime back in the day, a year of living together here, and you never thought that maybe I care more about you than I do who you have sex with? That kind of important stuff?”

“When you put it like that ...”

“Is that why you left? Why you couldn’t get out of here fast enough -“

“Steve, it’s not like that -“

“No? Soon as you were cleared for solo habitation, you were gone. I was on a mission, and when I got back, the apartment was empty, all your stuff gone. Like you’d never been here in the first place. Like you never wanted to be here in the first place.”

“I didn’t wanna leave. I thought I had no choice -“

“Never occurred to you to ask? To give me a chance to not be an asshole? Geeze, Buck! Of all the people in the world to fall for the propaganda machine, I never expected you would be one of ‘em. I ain’t the suit. I ain’t the image. I’m still the guy you pulled out of fights in Brooklyn, still the guy who watched your back when you stepped out, whether it was with Beth or Bob. Fuck, Buck. Not you, too ...”

“Steve, I ... look, I’m sorry. I was wrong, and I didn’t give you a proper chance. You’re right, i didn’t trust you like I should’a. I faked it so the shrinks would let up on me. I never thought you’d get hurt in the process. I never thought I’d be the one to hurt you. I wanna make it up to you, I wanna ...”

“What?”

“Well, I guess I wanna get to know you. ‘Cos I clearly am missing some pieces in this head of mine.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. But first, I gotta know - if I was into guys, were we ... were we ever?”

Steve stared at him in silence, his expression suddenly closed and stoic. Like all the fire, all that was Steve, suddenly bled out of him. “No.”

“Not at all? Never -?”

“Never,” Steve replied flatly, his eyes shuttered and hard. “Look, I really do have a headache, and it’s whipping my ass. Can we do this later? I’ll probably feel better after I get some sleep, y‘know?”

“Yeah, uh, sure. Yeah, get some rest, Steve. Maybe we can ... maybe we can get together tomorrow, huh? Breakfast, maybe? Or lunch?”

“I’ll text you, huh? See you later, Buck.”

And Bucky found himself edged out of the apartment he once called home, staring at the closed door.

&&&

“I take it that didn’t go well.”

He wasn’t surprised to find her loitering with intent a few steps up the stairwell linking the residential floors of the tower. Security be damned, Romanova would always find a way. “Understatement,” he grunted as he shoved past her in the stairwell. “Don’t you have someplace to be, Red?”

“Think I’m right where I’m supposed to be, Barnes. And no one calls me Red these days. Any reason I shouldn’t gut you for trying it on?”

He stopped, synthetic hand on the railing, one foot on the next step, and half turned back toward her. 

“Sure as fuck not because it would upset Steve.”

That got a reaction out of her, a passing wraith of pity flitting across her face before she settled on a delicately arched eyebrow. “What’d you say to him?”

“You mean that upset him so badly? Not sure. I guess you were right ... I don’t know him like i thought i did.”

“Starting to think none of us do.” She sighed deeply, her ribcage expanding then deflating as she blew out her breath.

“I need a fucking drink.”

“Thought you couldn’t get any drunker than Rogers.”

“Can’t. Still need a fucking drink.”

She considered him for a long moment, her eyes narrowing with focus before her face suddenly relaxed into a grin.

“C’mon, Tiger. Let’s see if that arm is any use to crack Stark’s secure liquor cabinet.”

&&&

“Hi, Soldier,” Natasha greeted from the open doorway a couple of hours later. She hefted an ornately carved bottle in one hand, and small flask with an otherworldly sheen in the other. She smiled encouragingly. “Gonna invite me in?” 

“Is there a point to this, Nat?” Steve asked from where he blocked the doorway. He looked weary, gaunt even. So unlike the super soldier that rushed into battle, leapt out of planes without a chute. So unlike the image he fought every day to uphold.

Nat shifted uncomfortably, pushing off from the door jamb. Even after an arduous battle, sustaining significant damage, Steve never looked like this. 

“Think you need a friend,” she answered softly.

“Think I’d rather drink alone,” he answered, reaching for the flask and the bottle, but she pirouetted out of his reach.

“Uh-uh,” she smiled sweetly at him. “I bring the drink, you bring the talk.”

“Thanks, I’ll pass,” he answered, stepping back to close the door. She darted forward and wedged her foot so the door couldn’t close.

“Sorry, I don’t think I can allow that, Cap.”

He drew a breath through his nose, straightening as he pulled his shoulders back. “Nobody here by that name.”

“So that’s it.”

He looked at her then turned wordlessly, leaving her to follow or leave. His body language told her he didn’t care.

And that chilled her unlike anything else she’d experienced since she left the Red Room.

&&&

“He lied.”

She turned toward him, peering over the rim of her glass, her eyebrow arching expectantly.

Her continued silence led him to continue.

“To his therapist.”

More silence. More expectation.

“So they’d release him.”

When it became obvious her continued silence wasn’t going to prompt him to speak further, she roused herself to ask, “And that matters why?”

“Well, he lied.”

“So? I lie all the time. It’s part of the job description.”

“Your job, yes. If you did it to me in our personal relationship, i wouldn’t be too thrilled with you.”

“Who’s to say I don’t? Lie, that is. You’d never know.”

He leveled her with a disbelieving glare, and she met it with a grin.

“Okay, so he lied.”

“About remembering. Remembering me. Everything he’s done has been based on assumptions he made from reading about Cap. Not from memories of Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers growing up together.”

“And that matters why?” At the pained look he turned her way, she shook her head gently. “I’m sorry, Steve. I really don’t get it.”

“He was the only person left who knew me from before. Who knew me. The real me. Not the suit, not the shield, not the serum. Little Stevie Rogers and his bum ticker and his crap lungs and his fists that never scabbed over ‘cos he was always pickin’ fights with bullies.”

“Steve, you always knew there was a strong chance that Barnes wouldn’t remember anything. That the Winter Soldier conditioning had destroyed his memory, made it unrecoverable.”

Yeah. I was prepared for that. And if that’s what had happened, I would have accepted it. But that’s not what he claimed. He said he remembered me. He acted like he remembered me. We built a life together based on him remembering me. But it was all a lie. And all of his decisions have been based on his not remembering me, on believing the myths. He dumped me because he bought the image, because he didn’t remember that’s not who I am, not who I ever was. Because of the bullshit he believed about me, he moved out without so much as a note.”

Natasha was still struggling to see what the problem was, and she said as much.

“I’m alone. Alone with an image I didn’t create. Where everyone treats me like someone I’m not. There is not one goddamned genuine thing in my life, Nat. Not one thing I can say, that’s Steve’s. Not Cap’s, but Steve’s. Steve is not a Republican. Steve votes his conscience, and his conscience says making people feel less than is wrong. Steve is not a pillar of ‘family values’ - Steve is queer and happy to wake up in a world where men can hold hands and women can kiss each other, and it’s okay not to have a gender at all. But it gets harder to remember that, to hold on to who I really am, when there’s no one else remembering that that’s who I am. Everybody expects me to be this uptight symbol of austerity and patriotism. That’s Cap. I’m not that guy. I’ve never been that guy.”

She took a sip of her drink - aged to perfection, chilled perfectly over ice, and missing the Asgardian liquor that spiked Steve’s drink. She smiled as the rich flavors burst over her tongue, the heat soothing down her throat. Then she set her glass down and leaned forward in her seat, capturing Steve’s attention with the depth of her own.

“I really don’t see the problem here, Steve. Not that I’m discounting what you’re saying. I just don’t have a context. No one sees this idea you have of yourself. So what? Change it up. Make them see. No one remembers? That sets you free to create your own narrative, your own backstory. You don’t have to be penned in by reality - you create your own truth.”

“I -“

“It’s not as hard as you think. Take me, for example. The world knows me as Natasha Romanov. That’s an identity I created. There is no real Nat. There is no one who knows the ‘real’ me. Not even me. I was created in the Red Room, many of my memories are implanted or altered. So I recreated myself. I’m not a product of memory, I’m a product of will. My will. I choose who I am, how people see me. What they think of me. I continue to recreate myself every day. So my sense of self? It isn’t dependent on anyone else’s perceptions of me, but I call the shots about what I show them, how much I share.”

“You don’t care what anyone thinks? Not even Nick?”

“Okay, there are a couple of people I may sort of think I’d like to think kindly of me. You might even be one of them. But if they don’t ... if you don’t ... it’s not going to stop me from being who I am. I don’t need anyone to validate who I am, I don’t need anyone to see me to be me.”

He listened silently, pausing every so often to take a small sip from his drink, the tension gradually smoothing out as the Asgardian liquor hit his system. A small smile, more a relaxation of the stern muscles around his lips, formed over time as the level went down in his glass. Natasha had the sense that she was seeing something that was rarely seen, something few had been privileged to share: Steve Rogers letting his hair down.

So of course she had to press her advantage. She picked up her glass again and swirled the amber liquid, light refracting in the ice and the liquor and the sharp edges of the expensive crystal, and smiled.

“Why is it so important that someone remembers?”

Steve took a sip from his drink again, pausing to think about his answer. Then he leaned forward and put his glass on the end table beside him. 

“Have you never heard the term ‘bear witness’? It means to show that something exists or is true. I feel like the longer i go with no one knowing who I was, who I am, I disappear a little more. I feel like I’m becoming invisible to the point of non-existence. Like before long, all that will be left is Cap, and he’s never been real.”

“Wow. That’s ... oddly specific and wildly dramatic, don’t you think?”

That was when she knew she’d overstepped. The relaxed muscles around his mouth tightened up, tension flaring around his eyes as the open expression he’d held shut down. She’d hit a nerve, and a painful one at that. Outwardly, her demeanor was serene and in control. Inwardly, she cursed herself for missing the cues. Again. Steve Rogers might seem like a simple guy from a supposedly kinder time, but he was vastly more complex than most people Natasha had known. Every time she thought she had his code cracked, she uncovered another layer she just didn’t understand.

The expression on his face was one part guarded, one part pain. “It’s ... I’m disconnected from my past if no one remembers. Like it never happened. And I’m alone here in the future, just ... Like I’m not real. Like I’m a ghost in my own life.”

“And having someone remember you as you were before you got the serum, that makes it all better? But haven’t you changed? Do you really need to be remembered as the person you used to be? Or should you be focusing on telling our own story? Not the Captain America or the Avengers’ story, but the Steve Rogers story. You say we don’t know you. You might be right. So change the story. Take control and show us who you are.”

He looks at her then, eyes narrowed and head cocked like he was finally seeing her for the first time. Like this was an idea he’d never entertained. And with a shock of recognition, she realized he hadn’t.

“I, um ... wow.”

“Do you know who Steve Rogers is?” she asked softly, gently, having a shock of recognition of her own.

He was silent for a long moment, long enough she thought he might not answer. But when he did answer, his voice was barely above a whisper, wrecked and pained. “I don’t know anymore. I ... I think I lost myself along the way.”

“Then it’s time you found yourself. Don’t you agree? But, Steve ... if you don’t know yourself ... how can you expect James to?”

“I guess I was hoping ... when he said he remembered everything, I guess I was hoping he could help me find ... me.”

“Like a reboot.”

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and there was a hint of deviltry glinting in those impossibly blue eyes.

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. And, I suspect JARVIS. You know more about technology than you let Tony think, right?”

“I fucking love technology. He’s so determined to cast me as some befuddled Luddite, I’m just biding my time.”

“For?”

“You know the serum enhanced my brain, too. And I was no slouch before it. I understand way more than Tony suspects. I’m just waiting for the right opportunity to blow his mind. That’s the right term, right?” he added with an unexpected twinkle.

“Yeah, Steve. That’s the right term. What about James?”

“What about Bucky?”

“He’s acclimated to technology really well. Is he similarly adept?”

“Buck loved technology and sci-fi before the war. Couldn’t get enough. But ... but I don’t know. I don’t know what he knows, what he loves. I don’t know if anything he told me is true,” he added, his mood dropping again. Natasha filed away the information that Steve loved to wind Tony up - it might come in handy the next time she needed to cheer him up. Plotting a prank on Stark might be just the thing to get Captain America out of a funk. Or rather, Steve Rogers.

But now, she needed to deal with the sudden tailspin she’d triggered. “Talk to him.”

“What?”

“You’ll never know until you talk to him. That’s the fundamental problem here - not memory, not lying about it, not unreasonable expectations. Communication. You two have to talk to each other and stop assuming shit about each other.’

“I -“

“Remember that he was tortured and forced to do horrible things against his will. He was used and abused. Then ask yourself if it’s really important for James to remember, when the memories that wait for him may be more than he could handle.”

Steve stared at her, his jaw snapped open and hanging. The expression on his face was one of horror - horror and guilt. She leaned over and gently lifted his jaw back into place, effectively shutting his mouth for him. “You aren’t responsible for what happened to him. But you can help him recover from it.”

“I, fuck, I hadn’t thought of that. There’s no way to filter out the memories - good, bad, horrible.”

“And if they come back, there’s no way to control what comes back, or when. Maybe he remembers enough, Steve. He remembers that you are important. Since the triggers were removed, maybe he doesn’t remember so much about Brooklyn. But he doesn’t seem to remember much about Hydra, either. And maybe that’s a blessing.”

“My Ma always taught me to count my blessings. Maybe you’re right, Nat. Maybe the fact he remembers me at all is enough.”

&&&

Despite Steve’s intentions to retire early and nurse that headache that was all too real, he found himself staring blindly into his darkened room as the night slipped closer to day. He lay rigidly in his bed, eyes unfocused, trying to will his limbs to relax, his mind to calm, and his heart to stop hurting.

Despite his words to Nat, despite recognizing that Nat had a really good point about some of Bucky’s memories not being memories he would wish on anyone ... despite the ache where his best friend should be, Steve was still angry and hurting.

Bucky had lied to him. Bucky hadn’t trusted him. Jesus, Bucky had lied and moved out all so he could score some tail without Steve judging him, something Steve would never do. He’d never judged Buck about his sexuality, who he screwed and who he stepped out with. He’d only ever cared that Buck was being safe about whatever he was doing.

He’d meant what he’d told Nat, about hoping that Bucky could help him find himself in this strange and uncomfortable future. 

He’d never expected that Bucky would tell him to his face that he remembered him, only to discover that Bucky’d swallowed the propaganda, the government fabrication, without question.

Steve just felt old. Old and achy and pointless. Redundant in his own life.

He was pretty sure that sleep was going to elude him completely tonight, and the anesthetizing qualities of Thor’s stash had long since worn off. He debated getting up to grab another drink when JARVIS spoke up.

“Captain, I hate to disturb your rest -“

“You know I’m not sleeping, J. What is it?”

“It’s Sergeant Barnes, sir. I know you aren’t getting on right now, but I do still have your standing order to alert you whenever he is in distress. Do you want to continue to be alerted, or would you like to rescind the order, sir?”

Steve sat up in bed, letting the sheet pool around his hips. He ran his fingers through his hair, balling his fist to tug at the strands. The sting helped him focus.

He shook his head, sighing. “What kind of distress, J? Awake and upset, dissociative break, nightmare, flashback? Are we talking self-harm here? Threat to the tower?”

“I do not believe that he is a danger to himself or others, no. It is a nightmare, and a violent one at that. His readings are elevated, and his amygdala appears to be unusually active. His heart rate is extremely high -“

“Okay. Okay J. Protocol Sleeping Beauty. Wake him, and tell him to come up.”

“Captain?”

Steve scrubbed his hand over his mouth and sighed. “Tell him it’s okay to come to my apartment. He can bunk in with me tonight.”

“If you are certain ...?”

“Yeah. We both know he’s not going to get back to sleep on his own. And episodes like this aren’t healthy for him. And I’m not falling asleep, either. Might as well do some good with the insomnia, huh?”

“With the cause of said insomnia, sir?” JARVIS asked gently.

“What can I say, J? No matter how he treats me, I just can’t quit him.”

“Then perhaps it’s time you told him, sir. Sergeant Barnes has suppressed a number of truths from you. But are you not suppressing a truth from him?”

Steve was silent for a long moment, long enough that JARVIS prompted him again to confirm that he wanted Bucky to come up. Instead, Steve asked the AI, “What gave me away? I’ve never told anyone. I’ve never said it out loud.”

“Your body speaks your truth in many ways. Your heat rate, your body temperature, the flush of endorphins when you are in his presence. My facial recognition protocol has catalogued a specific smile you give him when you believe he is not looking. The way your voice changes when you speak of him - before today, of course. The way your voice changes when you speak to him. Again, before today.”

“Oh. Well. I’m guessing you haven’t catalogued any reactions like that in him. About me, I mean.”

“I’m afraid my privacy filters do not permit me to answer that question. But I do believe that if you were to reveal your truth to Sergeant Barnes ... the outcome might be ... mutually satisfactory?”

“Huh,” Steve said, and was startled by his doorbell ringing. “He’s here already?”

“I am quite adept at multitasking. And Sergeant Barnes was surprisingly ... amenable to the idea of coming to your apartment. Shall I let him in?”

“No, but thanks, J. I think this is something I need to do myself.”

&&&

Steve steeled himself, stopping right before the door to take a deep, fortifying breath.  
It was just Bucky on the other side of the door. Bucky, whom he’d known his entire life. Bucky, whom he loved more than anyone, save his Ma.

Bucky who’d lied to his face and hurt him more deeply than anyone he’d ever known.

Bucky, who had such power over Steve, and who wielded it blindly, uncaringly.

Bucky, who would always find his way back into Steve’s heart.

Like now.

Steve opened the door.

Bucky looked like shit. Pale, sweaty skin, bloodshot, shadowed eyes, a fine tremor in his hands, and a hangdog look on his face. He was barefoot, wearing his favorite sleep pants, a misshapen sweatshirt that Steve suspected was his, and a fuzzy throw over his shoulders.

Steve stepped back, opening the door wider, and nodded toward the interior.

“Thanks,” Bucky murmured as he stepped past Steve. “I couldn’t believe it when JARVIS said it was okay.”

“You may be a shit friend, but you’re still my oldest friend,” Steve answered gruffly, escorting Bucky to his bedroom. He waved his hand vaguely toward the right hand side of the bed, and Bucky shuffled listlessly in that direction. He pulled back the bedclothes and sat heavily on the edge of the bed.

“I really appreciate this. I always sleep better when I’m with you.”

Steve huffed a quiet laugh. “How d’you handle it when someone stays over?” The words were out of his mouth before he realized he’d said them aloud. He really didn’t want to hear how Bucky spooned his lovers, or cuddled them to sleep, but he was morbidly curious about how Buck handled his night time terrors when he wasn’t with Steve.

Bucky twisted around to look at Steve then, an oddly pained expression on his face. “No one ever stays over. And I don’t stay at theirs. It’s just sex. A fuck, a blowjob, whatever, and then they go their way, I go mine. I’m ain’t datin’ anybody. Nobody’s gotta deal with my shit.”

“‘Cept me, huh? Well, why stop now? Been dealing with Bucky Barnes’s shit for nearly a century, one way another.”

“‘Y’deal with more than your fair share, Steve. I’m sorry - I really am. I’ve been a shit friend. I ... “ he shook his head. 

Steve might be hurt and angry, but he could see that Buck had taken it to heart, and he was hurting, too. Natasha’s words came back to him, and he had a sudden pang of hope, that somehow they’d be able to forge something new out of all this. He smiled gently. “Settle in. I’ll make some hot chocolate. Maybe it’ll help us both sleep.”

“You weren’t sleeping?”

“Nah. Couldn’t settle, either. Sometimes i sleep better when you’re in the same bed with me, too,” Steve replied with a shrug, and left Bucky to process that, and to organize himself in bed.

Steve needed the moment alone to get his emotions under control. Seeing Bucky like this, looking wounded, defeated, it hurt more than Steve expected it to. Although, he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised, really, he thought to himself as he busied himself with making hot chocolate, heated on the stove like Ma taught him, blocks of chocolate melting into the milk as he stirred. 

Fact was, they’d weathered too much over the years to let misunderstandings kill their friendship now. Steve had dealt with Buck sleeping around before. He could handle it again. At least with Buck living on his own, he didn’t have to see it up close and personal. Small blessings and all.

He brought the tray - two mugs of hot chocolate topped with that canned whipped cream they both liked so much, the can itself, and a plate of cookies from his stash. If they were going to not sleep, they might as well not sleep with goodies, after all.

When he got back to the bedroom, Buck was sitting up, the covers pulled up to his waist. He was wearing just a black tank top now, the sweatshirt and fuzzy throw tossed on the chair next to the bed. Bucky looked up at him and the platter he carried, and a smile touched his face - soft, almost childlike, and Steve felt his heart clench at the sight. 

There would never be a day when Steve Rogers didn’t love Bucky Barnes. 

He could survive it, he knew he could.

Just sometimes, looking at him like he was now, he could wish. He could hope. Even when he knew there would never be anything like that between them.

Buck reached out and took one mug from the tray, then handed Steve his mug, and left the tray in the middle of the bed. Buck immediately picked up the can of whipped cream, shook it vigorously, then shot a stream into his mouth with a grin.

“You’re disgusting,” Steve said as he walked around the bed to put his own mug on the night stand and got back into bed. Bucky turned with his mouth full of cream, and just grinned wider. “Give it here, I want some, too,” Steve commanded, and Bucky tossed him the can. Steve filled his mouth with delicious whipped cream, trying to mound the confection higher and higher until it started to dribble down his cheek. Then he quickly started to swallow, scooped up the cream that escaped and shoved it in his mouth. Buck held his hand out for the can, and Steve shook his head. “Drink your hot chocolate. We might need this for more later.”

Bucky shrugged, but did as Steve suggested. He moaned at the taste, and didn’t that make Steve feel all shivery. But even more, it made Steve feel like somehow they could heal, somehow get back to being SteveandBucky, not just two people who used to know each other. “Your Ma’s recipe. No one makes it quite like Sarah Rogers, but you come close.”

“Chocolate doesn’t taste the same these days. I’ve started trying out small batch artisanal chocolates, trying to find one that does. I’ve been trying to find the recipe for chocolate like we had as kids, maybe I could convince one of these chocolatiers to make it for me, y’know?”

“I know you’re weird. And I’ve missed this.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, feeling the joy he’d just felt bleed out of the moment. “We haven’t spent much time together the past six months.”

“That’s my fault. I, uh ...”

Steve held his mug up to his face, inhaling the heady scent and enjoying the warmth between his palms. He stared into the middle distance, wondering if this was the moment when he finally let go ...

“If all you wanted was a blow job or a handy, y’should’a just said.”

Bucky snorted, his breath blowing the cream into an odd shape. “What, if I’d come to you and said, ‘Steve, will you suck my dick?’, you would’a?”

Steve swallowed. Moment of truth time? Cradling his mug, he stared straight ahead. “Might’a. If you’d given me the choice.” Then Steve took a sip, letting his eyes flutter closed as he enjoyed the echo of his Ma’s hot chocolate break across his tongue.

There was silence next to him. Deafening, soul-crushing silence.

Finally, in a small, desperate voice, Bucky asked, “D’you mean that, Steve? I mean, would you be interested in that? With me? Would you be interested in me?” he asked, his words tumbling one over another as he shot questions at Steve, his voice becoming stronger with each one.

Steve took another sip from his mug, feeling Bucky’s eyes on him. Eyes that were wide now, his gray-blue irises completely surrounded in white. Steve could see him out the corner of his eye, and the sight made Steve’s heart begin to race, his pulse flutter, his mouth go dry. Steve took another sip of his hot chocolate, needing the fluid to moisten his mouth because it was suddenly so completely, utterly dry.

Bucky’s lips were parted, he was almost panting now. In a hoarse whisper, he asked, “Steve? could you?”

Steve turned then and looked into Bucky’s eyes, really looked. “Why’d you leave, Buck? Was it really just so you could have meaningless sex with strangers?”

“I ... no. No, not to have sex. Once I was on my own, I figured I might as well. You couldn’t see what I did every minute of every day.”

“Then why?” Steve pressed, putting his mug down on his night stand. He picked up the plate, and moved it too, Bucky’s eyes tracking the movement. Did Steve want the answer to this question? Did he really? 

“Because I was afraid. Afraid of what I wanted. Afraid of the fact that I wanted you. To kiss you. To have sex with you. I think ... I think I always did, even back then. I think I’ve always been in love with you, punk.”

Well. That was not what Steve was expecting to hear. His stomach felt like it did back on the Cyclone, swooping and fluttery and maybe he might get sick.

And maybe he might get something else. Hope started in an ember, growing stronger as his smile grew larger.

“Yeah?” Steve breathed, shifting to take Bucky’s mug from him. He twisted to add it to the collection on the night stand. Then he turned back to Bucky.

Bucky nodded and replied, “Yeah.”

Steve couldn’t help but notice the way that Bucky’s eyes had changed. No longer panicked, ringed in white. Instead, his eyelids drooped, half-closed, but the pupils that looked up through those long dark lashes were nearly black now. Dark with desire? Steve felt suddenly breathless, not like he’d run, not like when asthma had robbed him of so much, but like this beautiful, crazy, stupid, and perfectly infuriating man had sucked the air out of his lungs. 

Steve smiled. “Y”should’a talked to me, Buck. We’ve missed out on six months.”

“Six months?”

“Yeah, six months of doing this,” Steve said, leaning in to press his lips against Bucky’s. 

A whimper that threatened to become a sob, and then Bucky’s hand grabbed at the hair at the back of Steve’s head, and pulled him close, deepening the kiss so that the swooping, fluttering, half-sick feeling morphed into elation tinged with lust.

Bucky was kissing him.

It would be impolite not to kiss back.

&&&

Kissing Bucky very quickly became Steve’s favorite new thing.

He tasted of chocolate and whipped cream and something spicy and addictive.

Being kissed by Bucky was unlike anything Steve had ever experienced before. Bucky kissed with single-minded focus, and considerable skill, making Steve feel worshipped, cherished, desired.

Steve. Not Captain America. Not the muscles or the science experiment. Not the USO act or the hero. Just Steve, held in Bucky’s arms, lips and neck and collar bone attacked by those sinful lips, chest and arms, back and ass caressed and kneaded by those powerful hands, flesh and metal.

And for his on part, Steve reveled in the sensation of Bucky’s body, the expanse of gloriously smooth, warm skin, the sensitive and responsive nubs of his nipples, the undulating planes of his abs, the powerful muscles of his back. The gnarled flesh of his shoulder and left pectoral, the cool of the metal, the subtle shift and whir of the plates. The silky strands of his hair, so much softer than Steve had suspected, and the rasp of stubble on his face as it rubbed against his own skin, lighting up his flesh with sensation and warmth.

It seemed like they’d been kissing forever, lips sliding languidly, sometimes sweetly, sometimes with pressure and urgency, tongues battling for dominance. Giggles and whispers.

At one point, Bucky’d become frustrated with the bed clothes, and ripped them back with a growl so he could wrap himself around Steve, and they’d just gone back to kissing. Then later he’d come up for air and plucked angrily at Steve’s shirt, and chuckling, Steve had pulled it off and tossed it somewhere in the room, only to pull Bucky close and start kissing him senseless again.

It was all going swimmingly until Bucky had rolled Steve onto his back and straddled him, grinding down against, well, not what he expected, apparently.

Bucky lifted himself up off Steve, leaving Steve to hold his lips open to nothing. Steve’s eyes drifted open, and he slid his hands up Bucky’s thighs bracketing his hips. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re not hard,” Bucky said with a frown and a nod toward Steve’s crotch.

“Is that all? It just takes some time.” He took Bucky’s flesh hand and guided it gently to his groin. “I’m getting there, see?”

“Steve, we’ve been making out for, like, hours. I’ve been practically dry humping your thigh for most of that time. I’m nearly ready to cum in my frigging pants, and you’re only a little bit hard? Look, if you’re not into this, if you’re not into me, you don’t have to pretend -“

“Will you let me get a word in? I told you before. I don’t react to sex the way a lot of people do. It takes me longer to get started. I haven’t been impressed with sex before, but I can tell you, Bucky Fucking Barnes, kissing you is already better than any sex I’ve had in the past. So, if you’re done with your pity party, how about we get back to kissing? And if you wanna grind on me, go for it. Just don’t stop kissing me.”

Bucky stared at Steve for a moment, his hands sliding up to brace on Steve’s chest. Then he slid them down to cup Steve’s pecs, thumbs gently stroking over the nipples as he quickly lowered himself to capture Steve’s lips again. And then they got back to kissing.

&&&

In the end, Bucky had taken it as a personal mission to give Steve the best orgasm of his life with his hands and his mouth.

He succeeded.

He’d left Steve so boneless, he’d been incapable of returning the favor, but that meant that Steve was treated to the vision of Bucky pleasuring himself, just for Steve.

It was actually pretty awesome, and Steve found himself looking forward to exploring this new facet of their relationship with Bucky.

After they each came back to themselves, they slid under the covers and cuddled, Steve’s arms wrapped around Bucky’s shoulders so Bucky rested his head on Steve’s chest, while Bucky’s arms were wrapped around Steve’s middle, their legs tangled comfortably. They dozed, warm and cozy and satisfied.

After a while, Bucky lifted his head slightly and placed a gentle kiss on Steve’s chest, just above his heart. “I’m sorry. I try to remember, but ... the memories just don’t come. My therapist said at the beginning not to force it, but ... I know you want me to remember -“

“No. I don’t want you to force it. I just want you to be honest with me. Can you do that?”

Bucky answered by kissing Steve again, breaking off to smile at him. “I can do that. Sometimes I think I might be remembering, but I can’t be sure.”

“Well, then you tell me your memories, and I’ll tell you if they’re true. And if they’re not ... well, I guess we make new ones, huh?”

“Okay,” Bucky agreed, settling against Steve’s chest again, letting his left hand draw shapes on Steve’s skin. Quiet settled around them, soft and peaceful, making the moment seem sacred. After a while Bucky whispered against Steve’s skin, “I think this is a memory.” Steve gently tightened his hold on Bucky’s shoulder, then smoothed his hand up and down Bucky’s metal arm as he turned his head to kiss the crown of Bucky’s head. Bucky took it for the encouragement it was meant to be. 

“I’m little - maybe 6 or 7? I just started at this school, I think. I don’t know any of the kids, and I’m feeling lonely. Maybe my family just moved there? It’s all unfamiliar. And it’s snowing. It’s been snowing for a bit, because the schoolyard is covered, just little patches of black showing through. And there’s this little kid - he doesn’t even look like he should be in school. Tow-headed, no hat. And his hands are bare, his knuckles are bleeding. Red drops staining the snow.

“This kid, he’s so tiny. But he’s so fierce, his personality, it’s huge. There are kids all ringed around him and this other kid, gotta be twice, maybe three times his size. His face is bloody, he’s holding his hand to his nose, and there’s blood gushing out of it. And suddenly, he just howls. In pain, in anger, in just plain fuckery, I dunno. But he puts his head down and he just runs at the little guy.

“And next thing I know, I’m running, too. I’m running to shove that little guy out of the way of this frigging cannonball of a kid. And a teacher shows up and drags him off by the ear. And tiny guy? He’s shouting at me to let ‘im go, he can take ‘im, who the hell do I think I am ... and I think I fell in love that day. I think that tiny guy was you. Was it? Is that a memory?”

Steve snuggled against Bucky, and dropped another kiss to the top of his head. He ignored the tears that formed at the corners of his eyes as he answered, “That was the day we met. Your folks had just moved to Brooklyn from Indiana. I socked you one for interferin’, and you just grinned at me. You told me I was gonna be your best friend. And I was. You changed my life that day, Buck.”

“That was a good day,” Bucky agreed, settling deeper into Steve’s embrace.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, feeling the emotions welling up and threatening to cut off his air. He closed his eyes, and felt a smile forming on his lips. Bucky did remember something important about him, that memory of the first time Bucky Barnes saved Steve Rogers, and the first time that Steve Rogers had had a friend. Bucky remembered where they began.

It was a gift he’d given up hope of finding. 

“I think I remembered something else. My memory - it isn’t like a movie, y’know? It’s not one thing after another. It doesn’t always make sense. It’s like islands of memory. Things will trigger the memories, I have no control over them. But I’ve been thinking a lot about what our lives were like before the war, and I see bits and pieces. Not sure if they’re all memories, or if some of them are dreams or wishes. I’ve read a lot and watched the newsreels, so maybe I imagined some of it, all of it, I don’t know. But I do remember why you and I weren’t together. Why I went out with others, but never you. I was afraid you would get hurt, or worse. It wasn’t safe, and you had so many problems already, he - ah, I - didn’t wanna make it worse. So I bottled up my feelings. But I know that the Bucky Barnes that was always loved Steve Rogers.”

“And now?”

“What d’you think, punk?”

“I think you need to use your words.”

Bucky shifted so his chin rested on his fist, on Steve’s chest. He looked at Steve for a long, silent moment. Steve’s heart started racing, and he wondered how Bucky could miss it, resting right next to his heart as he was. “Then yeah. I love you. Is that okay?”

Steve’s smile grew at he urged Bucky to shift so he could bend down and press his lips against Bucky’s. “I was afraid you’d forgotten me, that you had no idea who I was. And then you give me that memory. It’s one of the most precious gifts I could ever hope to have. Let’s promise each other to be honest going forward, huh?” Bucky nodded solemnly. “And yeah. I love you, too. I think i always have, too. And I plan to keep doin’ it, too.”

“Til the end of the line?” Bucky smiled, shifting so he could kiss Steve again.

“And beyond,” Steve agreed, kissing Bucky right back.

END

**Author's Note:**

> You know the drill. Kudos, bookmarks, comments, they all enrich the muse.
> 
> One down. More to go. I’m not doing any challenges this month so my goal is to advance more of my WIPs. In December, I’ll be doing a challenge card for my Patreon patrons, as well as a couple of gift exchanges, so expect to see a lot of new stuff from me in the week around Christmas.


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